


Temptation

by oxymoronic



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Early Work, Humor, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot, Porn, Sex Pollen, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-24
Updated: 2012-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-31 16:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxymoronic/pseuds/oxymoronic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is one rule about Bones’ medical equipment, and that is very simple: ‘Do Not Touch the Blue Vials’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally at my LJ [here](http://oxymoronic.livejournal.com/53509.html). Thanks again to [credulesque](http://credulesque.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

 

 

There is one rule about Bones’ medical equipment, and that is very simple: ‘Do Not Fucking _Touch_ the Blue Vials’. Generally with an added ‘I Mean It, Jim’, and an evil look, because by this time Bones has learnt Jim is Not To Be Trusted. Other than that, he’s a remarkably tolerant roommate – something which Jim is very keen to exploit, and does so to maximum capacity. But Jim has the mind of a three year old, where yes means yes and no means yes as long as you go on about it enough.

You work it out.

 

 

Jim is sitting almost-naked on Bones’ bed, his legs crossed, and he’s staring firmly at a point on the wall. Bones walks in and stands by the window, unbuttoning his collar with a tug of his first finger. Jim’s eyes flicker across to him, and his breath catches in his throat. “I,” he begins and shuffles uncomfortably on the bed. “I touched them,” he grunts out, and Bones hides his smile behind his hand as he turns round.

“Well, shit,” he yawns, and kneads one eye with the crux of his hand. “Try not to move.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Jim mumbles through gritted teeth. His shoulders shake a fraction. “How long till – ?” and his breath hitches, fluttering in his throat. He has to spit the words out just to get over it. “I have a meeting in a half hour with Pike.”

Bones suppresses the urge to laugh. What did he think would happen? He’d get randy for ten minutes and then get over it? “Cancel it,” Bones says bluntly. “You’re not going anywhere for the next four hours.” Neither is he, Bones is beginning to suspect, but he paces around the room loosening his uniform and trying to give the general impression he has a social life.

“Four hours?” Jim echoes, his voice tight. “What the _fuck_?!” _Jesus_ , Bones thinks as he shakes his head. He really _did_ think it was going to be over quickly. That’s Jim all over.

“I warned you,” Bones says grimly.

“You never said what they actually did!” Jim protests, but it’s weak. Bones paces across to the door. “ _Wait_ – ” Jim groans a little and Bones can hear him shifting on the bed. Bones looks over, which is a very stupid thing to do. “Bones,” he breathes, “you _have_ to help me out here.”

He turns back towards the door. “You got yourself into this mess. You…” He gestures vaguely at Jim writhing on the bed. “… get yourself out of it.”

“ _Bones_ ,” Jim whines. “How… how did you find out about it?”

Bones colours slightly, but his face is to the door, and he’s thankful for it. “Loaded the wrong vial,” he muttered. “Shot myself in the leg in med school.”

Jim moans, then, the idea fuelling his dizzied brain, and Bones can hear the sound of his hips shifting against the sheets, the breath catching and twisting in his throat. “And?”

Bones grits his teeth. “Had to run out of the lab, back to my – ”

Jim’s breath catches and his hips shunt upwards; Bones has turned round, is watching, is kind of helpless to do anything else. “You jerk off all night on your own, or did you find someone to fuck you?”

Bones quirks an eyebrow. “Which would you prefer?” He watches Jim process the information, watches his eyes dilate impossibly, locked onto Bones’ chest and staring at it incoherently. His body’s responding to the ideas in his brain, twisting and writhing through the sheets. “Shit, Jim,” he breathes, and shakes his head. Jim’s looking at him, and it’s _vicious_ ; Bones knows Jim wants him there _nowrightnow_ but his body’s so wired with those damn chemicals he’ll probably come if he tries to move. Bones takes full advantage of his incapacitated state; he walks over to the door, slowly checks the lock, messes with his hair in the mirror, and kicks off his shoes. By the time he turns around to start undressing Jim’s just _staring_ , his mouth slack, too caught up to even lick his lips, and Bones can see they’re cracked and dry, wants to taste every detail. Jim’s arms are trembling and his elbows are buckling just as Bones starts pulling off the standardized red uniform. Jim’s struggling to hold himself up, and Bones knows it’d go a tad too far to fold them neatly on a chair, so he just lets them drop where they are. Jim’s eyes never leave his face.

He stops when he’s just in his underwear, because it means they’re on a level playing field. He wonders what would have happened if he hadn’t come in when he did; would Jim have just lain there, jerking off until he got back? Had he been about to? He _was_ sitting on Bones’ bed in nothing but his underwear. Bones has to tense up to hold in a shudder. Jim jerking off on his bed. He wonders whether Jim’s ever done it before, hot and hard and sweaty, come all over his bed to his name, and changed the sheets before Bones got back. He’d like to think Jim knows where to draw the line, but this is _Jim_. He considers standing there and jerking off himself in front of Jim, who, in his current state, wouldn’t be able to do a goddamn thing about it. He should feel sympathy, he really should – he has been in Jim’s situation before. But would Jim do the same to him? Probably not. He’d be a stupid fucking little tease, just like he’s being now, his legs slowly spreading apart unconsciously with eyes still fixed on Bones’ face, his chest still heaving and it’s far from silent. Jim closes his mouth and swallows, gulping on air, licking his lips, wet and breathy and loud. Bones walks over silently, standing in front of Jim sat on the edge of the bed, and looks down with the slightest sigh. This kid owes him so many times it’s past the point of ridiculous, but Bones _really_ doesn’t mind Jim’s method of paying him back.

Jim’s pupils are dilated, past even vaguely normal, and Bones knows he should be worried about that. It’s just the stupid fucking drugs, the stupid fucking drugs he _really_ should’ve had the common sense to remove from Jim’s vicinity –

He leans down to kiss him, one knee sliding either side of Jim’s waist on the bed, perching on his thighs tentatively. The litany _keep out of reach of children_ is marching across his mind, stamping its feet and leaving mud marks all over the carpet, and it’s utterly distracting and appropriate all in one hideous go. Jim’s desperate, clawing at his hair, biting hard on his lips to the extent of drawing blood and whimpering at every single touch. Bones knows the feeling – it’s almost too much, skin so sensitive you’re on fire, prickling and burning with every brush, chemicals riding your body so hard. He’d sympathise, but he knows the shaking mess beneath him is only half-chemical, and half, very predominantly, _Jim_. Jim shimmies back along the bed, legs wrapping around Bones’ waist and dragging him back with him, leaving slow, sloppy kisses all along his collar and constantly shunting his cock desperately against Bones’ stomach, desperate for the movement their underwear provides.

Speaking of. Bones wraps his fingers through Jim’s, tugs it down over his thighs; Jim’s legs go into overdrive, desperate to get them off, kicking and shoving underneath him, knees going haywire so viciously he nearly winds him. Bones shoves him back against the bed to remove his own but Jim’s back up against him in a heartbeat, fingers dragging through his hair, kissing him ferociously as he ruts helplessly into Bones’ stomach. He’s so fucking desperate he can’t even be apart for the fraction of a second, insists on being pressed up right against him even when Bones drops his hands and manages to _squirm_ out of his underwear and tug them off, landing on the bed and immediately kicked into oblivion by Jim’s helplessly flailing feet.

Bones catches hold of his cock and Jim whines, long and high, hips pushing recklessly upwards. It’s not what he wants, though, and they both know it. _I am going to blackmail you_ so _badly for this_ , he thinks grimly as Jim nearly winds him again with his legs, wrapping round Bones’ stomach.

Then Jim leans up and chokes out “fuck me,” accompanied by a long, garbled moan and Bones decides he _really_ doesn’t mind.

Jim won’t let his hands near him; whenever they go anywhere near his ass he tugs them back in his hair, on his cock, anywhere but there, and Bones gets the idea, even if his medical brain is screaming at him otherwise. Jim has this _thing_ , he likes it to _burn_ , and the thing that always hits Bones about sex is when Jim can’t even stand the next morning. Jim bites hold of two of his fingers and sucks around them, his tongue making Bones’ brain go haywire as Jim shimmies even further up his lap and awkwardly, his spine bending horrifically, ruts against him. Bones shoves him up against the wall and Jim spreads his legs, smiling beatifically, and Bones shimmies up to fuck him properly. His cock finds way too much resistance to be healthy, and he can _feel_ Jim’s body trying to force him out, but Jim just fucking _takes it_ , rolls his head back and moans, shunting his hips downwards. Bones is staring at the crook of his neck, and he’s still sliding in, still going, and Jim’s still moaning, louder and louder until he’s in and there’s nothing Jim can fucking do about it. He starts to move, gentle shoves of his hips, sliding and rolling them around so it’s not quite as tight and Jim’s gasping, close to the point of hyperventilating, dragging his tongue over those dry lips, his breath hitched and rough.

Jim loses his patience after a couple of thrusts, grabs hold of Bones’ hips and they flip, awkwardly, spending a few tangled moments on their sides fucking helplessly into the mattress before Jim’s splayed out on top of him, his legs spreading wider and wider as he sinks down, and from the look of bliss on Jim’s face he’s going in deep enough this time. There’s the slightest line of tension on the side of his mouth, pinching it slightly with the pain, and Bones knows this is only going to help him get off. The line goes when Jim smiles lasciviously and Jim rolls his hips, stretching obscenely around his cock, shuddering. Bones grunts a little, breathless, with Jim tight and hot above him. Jim pants shallowly as he inches upwards, as high as his bent legs will let him, locking his unnaturally-blown eyes on Bones as he slams downwards again and sobs, dry and breaking and desperate and Bones feels it too – it steals his breath and his back arcs and he scrapes his fingers down Jim’s sides, tearing the skin to the point of redness. It’s too far, too much, and he’s going to come, holy shit, it’s not fucking fair –

He pushes up against Jim’s shunts, now, fingers bruising Jim’s hips as he guides him round and then _there_ , he has it, and he slams up hard and runs smoothly against Jim’s prostate and Jim’s eyes suddenly go wide so wide and he comes on a shriek, it hits him out of nowhere and his back locks up and it’s all over Bones’ stomach, hot and sticky and slimy, the tangy smell of it burning his throat. Then Jim slumps forwards and somehow it’s tighter and Bones groans as he comes, breathless, arms draping helplessly around Jim’s body, his eyes tight-shut and his face buried into Jim’s neck. He can smell it, smell them both, taste the sweat and the come on Jim’s chest.

Bones is trembling and breathing deeply, his whole body numb, fuzzy and helpless. He likes it. He wants to sleep for a decade, but Jim’s stirring already, lips dragging across his collarbone, shifting up and away from him.

Jim is going to be like this for the next _four hours_.

Bones resists the urge to groan into the pillow.

Then there’s a sharp, nasty shock in his leg and he yelps, scrabbling away from Jim and gazing at him blearily, just in time to see the silver hypospray slip from Jim’s fingers.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” he breathes, feeling the drug already begin to kick into his system.

Jim grins. “Figured this’d be the easiest way to get through the next four hours. I won’t be the only one _begging_ for it.”

Bones’ body’s sending a whole host of messages in hot spikes through his system, and most of them are _fuck you, Jim Kirk_ in every meaning of the phrase. Still, what with their different metabolisms and his delayed injection, he knows Jim’s is going to wear off before his does. And then he is going to give him _hell_.


End file.
